Black watches as one of the guys suck my cock while the other plays with himself. It was an awkward and uncomfortable situation, and it reminded me of Meng and her friends. Their laughter echoed mockingly in my mind, but I needed the money for rent and a few things when we moved in. The pressure of the situation forced me to ignore my discomfort and focus on the task at hand.
As my cock began to grow hard, the guy turned around and presented his ass to me. Without hesitation, I poured some oil onto his backside and slipped my cock into his waiting hole.
I fucked him hard and fast, pounding his ass without mercy. The other guy joined in and slipped under the guy sucking his cock as I fucked him. The combination of sensations was overwhelming, and it wasn't long before he reached the brink of orgasm.
As the first guy climaxed, I moved on to the other guy, his legs up on my shoulder and my cock hard in his ass. My eyes drifted towards Black, who was sitting on a chair with his legs wide open as he masturbated with his other hand on his nipple. The sight was unsettling, but I continued to fuck the guy under me, listening to his moans and screams.
Suddenly, Black rose from his chair and walked into the bathroom. A minute later, he returned, dressed himself, and abruptly left. The other guy, still under me, whispered, he would be back. Despite his reassurance, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.
As I fucked the guy beneath me, I couldn't help but wonder what had just happened. Black's sudden departure had left me with a lingering sense of unease. However, I paid it no mind, as I focused on delivering an orgasm to the guy beneath me.
Finally, he climaxed, and I got up, trying to process the events that had unfolded. The memory of that morning would stay with me, a reminder of the choices I made and the sacrifices I had to make to survive.
Can we go another round? The guys asked, and before I could respond, one of them quickly added, don't worry, we will pay. I complied because I desperately needed all the money I could get, and we ended up having two more rounds.
"Here," one of the guys says casually, handing me a wad of cash as I was ready to leave. My breath catches as I count the crisp hundred-dollar bills. Five thousand dollars.
"Are you sure you didn't make a mistake?" I ask, my voice trembling. I glance up at him, but his expression doesn't waver.
"No mistake," he replies evenly. His gaze is sharp, assessing me. "Do you have a phone?"
"I do," I say, fumbling to pull it from my pocket. My heart skips a beat as the screen lights up. Ten missed calls—from Black.
"Oh my God," I whisper, panic bubbling up. Before I can react, the guy grabs my phone.
"Relax," he says with a smirk, dialing a number. The faint sound of a ringtone fills the silence. I look down and spot his phone on the floor, buzzing in sync. His grin widens as he hands my phone back.
Without another word, I leave the house. My breath hitches as I step outside. The neighborhood is quiet, almost eerily so, but the house—my God, the house—is stunning. Towering walls of glass, perfectly manicured lawns, and a sleek, modern design that screams money. How did I even end up here?
As I stroll down the street, trying to piece together the day's events, my eyes catch the house I jumped into. The memory sends a shiver down my spine. My gaze lingers, and that's when I notice them—a group of men dressed in military pants. Sitting under a shed which hummed with quiet laughter and clinking glasses. Smoke from the barbecue stand spiraled upward, fading out. I hadn't noticed the shed before.
I quickly averted my eyes, praying they didn't catch me staring.
"Need help?" one of them calls out, his deep voice cutting through the silence.
I force a smile and shake my head. "Just admiring the house," I mumble, my voice barely audible.
Before they can respond, I pick up my pace, breaking into a jog.
Black's office comes into view, its tall gates standing like a fortress. Steeling myself, I adjust my shirt and enter the compound, my thoughts a chaotic mix of fear, curiosity, and a growing sense of danger.
The moment I step into Black's compound, my heart starts to race. It isn't the first time I've been here, but something about today feels different. The air feels heavy like it's pregnant with secrets. I glanced around—bodies sprawled, drugged, on the floor. Sleek black cars lined the driveway. Every detail screamed wealth, power, and dangerous clients. But I hated it. Every bit of it.
I push open the door and step inside. The bouncer glances up, his sharp eyes narrowing for a moment before recognition softens his features.
"Black's waiting for you," he says curtly, gesturing toward the hallway that leads to his office.
I nod and make my way there, my shoes clicking softly against the polished marble floor. With every step, I feel the money tucked in my shoe pressing against my foot, a sharp reminder of what's at stake.
When I reach his door, I pause, taking a deep breath before knocking.
"Come in," Black's deep voice calls.
I push the door open and step inside. Black is seated behind his massive desk, his fingers steepled together as he studies me. His dark eyes are unreadable, but there's an intensity in his gaze that makes my skin prickle.
"You've been busy," he says, leaning back in his chair.
"I—" I begin, but he holds up a hand, silencing me.
"You didn't answer my calls," he says, his tone calm but carrying an edge that makes me swallow hard.
"I didn't see them until a while ago, I've not gotten used to having a phone," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.
Black leans forward, his eyes boring into mine. "Do you know how dangerous it is to ignore me?"
I feel a shiver run down my spine, but I stand my ground. "I didn't mean to. I... got caught up." I say
Black stands up from his chair, his frame casting a shadow. His presence always carries a weight—an unspoken authority that makes the air around him feel heavier. His dark eyes are fixed on me, unreadable but intense.
He stretches out his hand. "The phone," he says, his voice cold and commanding. I hesitate for a moment but place the phone in his palm.
His thumb swipes across the screen, and his expression darkens. "You gave one of the guys your number?" he hisses, his voice barely above a whisper. He takes a step closer, the tension in the room thickening.
"He took my number," I manage to reply, my voice trembling slightly.
Without warning, Black smashes the phone onto the floor. The screen shatters, splinters of glass scattering like tiny diamonds across the floor. I flinch, the sound of the impact reverberating in the quiet room.
"Do you know how jealous I was watching you with those guys?" he spits, his tone rising with each word. "I couldn't bear it anymore. That's why I left!"
His words catch me off guard, the raw emotion in his voice contrasting with his usually composed demeanor.
"Jealous?" I repeat, my brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would you be jealous?"
Black stood mere inches away, the tension between us thickening like smoke. His dark eyes locked onto mine, burning with a mixture of anger and something else—something I couldn't quite place. He leaned closer, his voice low and sharp.
"Yes, jealous," he snapped. "You think I'd stand by and watch you fuck those guys, and the annoying part was you acting like I don't exist? seeing you laugh with them? Seeing you so... comfortable with anyone but me?" Like they have a right to be near you?" Do you think I'm blind to the way they look at you?"
I stepped back instinctively, the intensity of his words making my heart pound. "Black, they were your friends. It was your idea to meet them," I tried to reason, my voice trembling.
"Friends?" he spat the word like it was poison. "That's what you call it? And then you give your number to someone else? Do you know what that feels like? Watching you, wondering if they'll replace me in your life?"
I shook my head, trying to make sense of his sudden outburst. "You didn't complain last night, it was you who took me there this morning," I protested. "I needed the money. That's all."
Black's jaw tightened, his gaze flickering to the shattered phone on the floor. "You don't get it, do you?" His voice softened, but the edge of vulnerability in his tone caught me off guard. "You don't see how much I care about you. How much it tears me apart thinking of you with anyone else."
His words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. My confusion deepened, but beneath it, a flicker of understanding began to dawn.
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn't talk. Then, he takes another step forward, closing the distance between us.
"You don't see it, do you?" he says, his voice softening but still laced with frustration. "How much you mean to me... how much it kills me to see you with anyone else."
I shook my head, my own voice trembling now. "You're overreacting. They don't see me that way, and even if they did, it doesn't matter. I did it for the money.
For a fleeting moment, something in his expression softened, but it was gone as quickly as it came. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as if trying to restrain himself.
"I left because I couldn't take it anymore," he muttered, his voice quieter but no less intense. "I couldn't stand watching you give them pieces of you that belong to me." I expected you to follow me immediately, he snapped, his voice cracking under the weight of his frustration.
Black stared at me, his dark, glassy eyes boring into mine like shards of ice. Without a word, he strode to his desk. The drawer screeched open, and he retrieved several thick bundles of hundred-dollar bills. He tossed them onto my chest, the sound of crisp paper hitting my chest before dropping on the ground reverberating in the room.
"How much do you need that you couldn't ask me?" he hissed, his tone laced with disdain.
I stared at the money, my fists clenching at my sides. The insult was sharper than his words. "I don't need your money," I shot back, my voice steady but seething.
Black's jaw tightened, his face a mask of unspoken fury.
"You're forgetting the reason I came here in the first place," I continued, stepping closer to the desk. This isn't about your money, your power, or your ego. It's about her—about paying her debt. "You're delusional," I say, my voice steady but cold. "You think you can control me because of some twisted sense of ownership? I'm not your property, Black."
He chuckles, low and unsettling. "Ownership? No. But you are mine.
For a moment, his expression faltered, a flicker of something almost human crossing his face. Then it was gone, replaced by the cold indifference I'd grown to despise.
"I'd rather hang than be with you, Black," I spit, venom coating every word. "You treat me like a trophy, hit me whenever you feel like it, throw things at me as you please. Talk to me as if I don't matter. You dragged me to your friends last night, then again this morning, and now you're jealous?" I laugh bitterly. "Your behavior screams bipolar to me."
Black stands still, his expression unreadable, but his dark eyes burn. After a long pause, he speaks, his voice low and deliberate. "What can I do to make you mine?"
I let out a dry laugh, folding my arms. "I have a type, and you're not it."
His lips twitch in what could be a smirk or a grimace. "You can't have anyone but me, whether you like it or not. And let's be clear, I didn't keep you around to pay your mother's debt. I kept you because you tickle my fancy." He sits on his chair with a deliberate calm. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Speaking of tomorrow, I don't owe you anymore, so we're not seeing each other," I snap.
He laughs, his eyes narrowing. "And how's that?"
I hold my ground. "We've been meeting for two weeks. We've had sex twice each time, that's 14,000. You took 10,000 last night, and I believe you'll scrape the same today. That means I owe you nothing."
A smile curves his lips, but it's anything but warm. "You'll come as long as I want, money or not." He stretches, his arms flexing lazily over his head as if he has all the time in the world.
The room falls into a tense silence, save for the soft hum of the AC slicing through the heavy air. I cross my arms, my pulse pounding in my ears. Black's words echo in the confined space, wrapping around me like chains, heavy and unyielding.
"I will not come and go as you please," I snap, forcing the trembling in my voice to be still. "I'm not your property, and you don't own me."
Black smirks, tilting his head slightly, as if amused by my defiance. "That's cute," he says, his voice low and sharp. "But you don't get it, do you? This isn't about ownership. It's about control. And I have it. All of it."
I swallow the lump in my throat, refusing to let him see the fear creeping up my spine. His words cut deep, but I won't let him win. Not this time.
"You're pathetic," I say, each word deliberately slow, measured. "You think because you hold a little power, you can bend people to your will. You're desperate, clinging to something that isn't real." I will never feel anything for you. I hiss.
His jaw tightens, the smirk fading as his eyes narrow. He stands abruptly, the chair screeching against the tiled floor. The room feels smaller now, the air thicker.
"Say that again," he challenges, his voice cold and dangerous.
I step forward, meeting his glare head-on. "I'll never love you."